


Voices Wake Us

by fortythousandth



Category: Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Battle, F/F, Minor Injuries, Silver Millennium Era, fluff at the end!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortythousandth/pseuds/fortythousandth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Silver Millennium's Sailor Uranus KNOWS that nothing can ever happen between her and Sailor Neptune. However, unbeknownst to Uranus, this certainly doesn't keep Neptune from trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voices Wake Us

"Duck!"

Sailor Uranus is one of the Outer Guardians of the Solar System. She is decorated, feared, and mighty. She wipes out threatening invaders daily before most people have even eaten breakfast. She has a fiery fury that can bring any monster to its knees. She smears the guts of her enemies across moons and planets just for the fun of it.

And Sailor Uranus _ducks for no woman._

Well…except for maybe one.

She doesn’t hesitate--in fact, she hits the ground so hard that it knocks a bit of breath out of her—but she’s not a moment too soon. Uranus senses, rather than sees, the bolt of blue energy shooting past where her body was mere milliseconds before. She closes her eyes instinctively as residual fine mist from the attack ghosts against the exposed skin of her shoulders and the back of her neck. It tingles where it hits, cools her, and that familiar saltwater scent seems to wash away the tension from her tired muscles.

Above her the energy hits. A low yowl escapes the monster, and then Uranus can feel it disintegrate. Then there’s nothing left but the almost unnatural stillness that always comes as a sharp contrast in the immediate moments after a battle.

Uranus keeps her eyes closed for a moment. She’d never admit it, but she’s trying her hardest to just hold on. There’s still cool droplets of ocean water pearled on her skin, there’s still the smell of the sea heavy in the air, and Uranus clutches to it, lets it linger, lets the sensations lull her back to the few times she had the opportunity to visit the planet of Neptune as a child before she took up her duty as Sailor Uranus.

Those were much simpler times. Those were the times with the façade that she actually had some autonomy in her life.

But then other more pressing matters capture her attention.

“Ugh,” Uranus groans, looking down at the gooey purple essence of the monster that’s now splattered all over her fuku.

Sailor Neptune pads up and examines the scene before her. “I suppose I could have led the monster off to the side first, but I just wanted to end it quickly,” she says. “I do apologize for the mess, though. I can help you wash that off if you want.”

“No, I’m fine,” Uranus says, standing up. She swipes her hand down the mess on her fuku, knocking a solid gob of purple off. The magic embedded in their fukus, amongst its many other purposes, also apparently contains some sort of stain repellent.

Neptune’s eyes follow the gunk as it hits the ground. “What a pity,” she murmurs.

“What?” Uranus asks, blushing extremely against her will, debating with herself about whether or not Neptune had totally just checked her out.

“Nothing,” Neptune sighs. Is she just looking at the purple goo, or IS she checking her out, damnit?! But then Neptune breaks the moment. “I’ll head back to my post now,” she says. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” Uranus says. “Why did you show up for this one? I was handling it on my own.”

As the two Outer Guardians of the Solar System, Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune share the responsibilities of dealing with any threats that come from…well, outside of the solar system. Usually, they work solo; whoever’s closest to an invader tends to be the one to take it down, and seeing as both Uranus and Neptune are endowed with extraordinary sets of power, it’s rare for them to face a foe strong enough to require both of their abilities. Most of the time, Uranus and Neptune go years, even decades, without catching as much as a glimpse of the other.

But in response, Neptune casually twirls the renowned talisman of her planet, the Deep Aqua Mirror. “I could sense that this invader was particularly sensitive to water attacks, so I thought it demanded my presence.” She raises one perfectly crafted eyebrow. “Are you offended?”

“No!” Uranus sputters quickly. “It was just...a surprise.” Mentally, she kicks herself. So much of the time, Uranus is cocky, and confident, and aggressive. These are the qualities that make her so talented at what she does. But there’s always been something about Sailor Neptune, even since the days when they were in senshi training, that could unravel Uranus. And it doesn’t even seem like Neptune has to try. It doesn’t help that Neptune is a gorgeous, brilliant woman, qualities which, when combined, fluster Uranus like nothing else.

Generally, Uranus is of the opinion that it’s for the best that she and Neptune’s paths cross so rarely; otherwise, she might stumble into something that she couldn’t resist. And resisting is the very nature of her duty.

Today, though, Neptune apparently decides to let her off easy. “Well, may we both surprise each other again soon. Best wishes, Uranus.”

With that, she’s off, leaving Uranus with a heated face, butterflies in her stomach, and purple junk all over her fuku. It’s not that she has _feelings_ for Neptune or anything. She has a healthy admiration for the other senshi, that’s all. Besides, it’s not like anything could ever happen, with both of them as duty-bound as they are.

Uranus inhales and exhales slowly, trying (and failing) to knock Neptune out of her mind.

It really is for the best that they never see each other.

* * *

Uranus catches the scent before she sees her, the tang of saltwater hitting her nose in a sudden wave, and then there’s a solid, warm body pressed against her back, muscles tensed and at the ready. The symbol of Uranus begins glowing hot on her forehead, like it always does whenever she’s in the presence of focused senshi combat energy, as Sailor Neptune begins to speak. Her voice is curt, but still almost musical, just as usual: “You blast that flank over by the hillside with your sword. I’ll hit the group over there with my Deep Submerge, and then after, we can take them out if you whip up the remaining water and attack with a cyclone.”

Uranus nods. “Right.”

There’s no time to argue, and the strategy does seem sound. It’s not that this army of marauders on Oberon is necessarily challenging, but there’s a massive amount of them. Uranus would’ve been able to defeat them all on her own, but it would’ve taken forever, and a small part of her is grateful for the company. Glancing over her shoulder, she drinks in a split-second glimpse of her newly-arrived ally.

Sailor Neptune bounds away, hard at work, the ball of ocean energy swelling in her palm as she runs. Her aqua hair flows behind her as she moves, every part of her body working in sync with an almost breathtaking elegance. Uranus notes that now is a very poor time to allow her breath to be taken and peels her eyes away, firing up the Space Sword and beginning the implementation of her half of the plan.

It all goes flawlessly, which is no surprise. Of the two frontline Outer Guardians of the Solar System, Neptune is the coldblooded strategist, known for her ingenious battle plans and her ability to outsmart any opponent. Uranus, on the other hand, usually charges into battle with no strategy beyond “Hit Things With The Sword Until They Fall Over/Explode,” which, while a bit crude, certainly meshes well enough with her particular power set.

As the last one falls, Uranus sheaths her sword. She groans internally as her telltale heart begins to pound at the sight of the aqua-haired woman. “Neptune,” she says, trying to keep everything cordial. Professional.

“Uranus,” Neptune nods, the familiar half-smile on her face. “Quite a few of those invaders, wasn’t there?”

Uranus merely grunts in response. It’s bad enough that Neptune makes her blush and trip all over herself; it’s even worse that it’s twice, now, that she’s swooped in to save Uranus. So much of the time, the Outer Guardians were expected to work alone, only teaming up in cases of huge threats. The last several cases certainly hadn’t seemed like huge threats, and Uranus briefly wonders if something’s off with her judgment.

“Ah,” Neptune says, a teasing grin on her face, “whatever happened to charming Uranus? I heard those stories about you back in the royal court when you were a teenager. I doubted they were all true, but in legend, there’s usually some truth. And to the best of my knowledge, being charming requires the exchange of words.”

“I can say words,” Uranus grumbles.

Neptune eyes her. “You _are_ upset, aren’t you, Uranus? It seemed as though the horde was taking longer than usual to defeat, and thought that if I stepped in…”

“I guess you’re right,” Uranus mumbles. “At least we defeated them.”

“We did,” Neptune agrees. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen your power displayed in full force like that. I always forget just how impressive you really are.”

“I…what?” Uranus whirls to face her. Something about Neptune! It just absolutely shuts her off and shuts her down and coherent words always get so HARD. If it was anyone else she would have no trouble firing right back, but it’s like all of a sudden she can’t speak.

But then it’s Neptune raising her hand. “Of course I don’t necessarily _hope_ to see you again soon, but I do look forward to it.”

It’s only when she’s gone when the words come back to Uranus. So easy, something as simple as “You’re pretty impressive yourself” would have sufficed. It’s way too late, though, and with an aggrieved sigh, Uranus scrubs her hand through her hair and leaves for her own post.

* * *

“WORLD SHAKING!”

Uranus is using every bit of her notorious iron will to pour all of the scraps of power that she can spare into the glowing ball of energy in her hand. The pain, she tells herself, is nothing, she’s forcing it away, she’s not in pain, she can’t be feeling pain, her skin is icy and hot and tingling all at once but _she can’t she won’t_ let it touch her.

Her fist slams into the ground. Through blurred vision, Uranus watches as the yellow sphere barrels its way to the monster, and then that’s it. The enemy’s taken too much of a beating, and one more World Shaking is just too much for it to bear. With a final roar, the enemy monster collapses, evaporating into a cloud of glistening particles as it goes.

With the monster defeated, Uranus staggers to a nearby cave for shelter, and once she’s inside, only then does she finally allow herself to crumple.

Without the adrenaline of the battle numbing her, Uranus realizes at once just how hurt she is. It’s all she can do to not black out before she can do a quick body check: her leg’s on fire, burning from a nearly direct blast of acid courtesy of the monster, and her arm is wrenched and throbbing, and gray’s edging around the sides of her vision and shit, that acid was probably venomous, because why the hell wouldn’t it be?

Uranus grits her teeth and yanks the glove off from her injured arm, crying out at the sudden white-hot knife of pain stabbing through her with even the slightest jostling of the immobilized limb. The plan is to try and use the glove to sop off any acid lingering on her leg, but she learns two things at the first touch. One is that the acid has already done its job searing into her flesh, and her leg is now an angry, blistering mess. The other is that she has now just pressed rather firmly on a tender, open wound. This time she can’t hold back a scream as black dots flash before her eyes.

She’s getting lightheaded and twitchy, starting with slight involuntary jerks and forcing her hurt limbs to move in ways that are absolutely excruciating as the venom begins setting in. It’s not fatal, won’t be fatal—any type of wound or injury that takes a certain amount of time to kill won’t actually end a senshi’s life, due to the strength of senshi healing—but the caveat is that she’s going to be stuck here until her body fully rejects the venom, feeling all of the effects it has right up to and including the point that would be deadly for a normal human. And then when her mental capabilities return, she’ll have to put her own shoulder back in joint before she can go anywhere. On top of everything else, a wave of nausea smacks into her at the thought and she gags, flopping back against the side of the cave in abject agony.

Maybe, if she’s lucky, the combination of the pain and the venom will put her under. In the meantime, though, there’s little else left for her to do but ride it out…

 

Uranus dreams of the seashore. Saltwater and sand and sun and soft hands stroking her body, touching all over her, making her gasp and shiver even in the bright heat. She whines, arches up into the sensation, grabs at it, tries to pull it closer.

She’s just so hot, and exhausted, and dazed, as she starts coming to again. She tries to slip back down into her dream and find that hidden world once again, but it’s out of her reach; she’s coming back.

She realizes dimly, but suddenly, that she’s not in any pain. How she’s pulling it off, she has no idea. With that venom and all of the damage to her body, she should’ve been out for hours.

That’s when she notices the sensation of a hand on her injured leg.

The thought of someone—or something—encountering her while she’s in this state is enough to jostle her from even the most feverish stupor, and in a flash she shoots bolt upright, yanks her Space Sword out, and has it aimed squarely at the neck of the person leaning over her. “Get the hell—“

She freezes when she realizes said person is none other than Sailor Neptune, looking remarkably nonplussed at finding herself at the business end of Uranus’ sword. “Really, Uranus, is this how you treat everyone who tries to do you a favor?” she says dryly.

Uranus blinks in amazement and lets her sword fall several inches. “Are you real?” she blurts, not putting it past her traitorous mind to conjure Neptune as a comforting illusion.

Neptune actually seems to consider the question. “As real as anyone else, I suppose,” she says, “but if you’re speaking in terms of whether I’m really here bandaging your wounds, then the answer is yes. I am. As the lack of pain in your leg should prove to you.”

Uranus glances down at her previously injured leg, now bandaged with thick white strips. Amazed, she tests it, to find no remaining pain. The symptoms of the venom, too, have all but vanished, leaving her with nothing but a bit of residual fogginess only slightly more severe than what one first experiences upon waking up. “What did you do?” she asks.

“My mirror told me that you would be struck by a particularly ruthless type of venom that was capable of severely damaging your leg, even with the benefits of senshi healing. I came as soon as I caught foresight of your injury, but while I was too late to help prevent it, I was just on time to help treat it,” Neptune explains, showing Uranus a can of salve she’d bought with her.

Uranus flops back down to the stony ground of the cave. “I want you to know that I am actually a very capable senshi,” she mumbles, “and all of those times when you aren’t coming to help me, those are times when I’m taking care of it on my own. Which I can actually do, by the way. I mean take care of things on my own.” Acutely aware that she’s starting to babble, Uranus clamps her mouth shut, a bit disgusted by just how easy it is to let go around Neptune.

Neptune, to her credit, just laughs lightly. “Uranus, it isn’t the mark of a failed soldier to need reinforcements at times. We have the hardest job of any solider in this solar system. And if we don’t come to each other’s aid when it’s needed, then who will?”

Who will?

Who will, indeed?

The thought enters Uranus’ head and rattles around, firmly implanting itself just based on how TRUE it is. It really is just Uranus, and Neptune, against such great odds so much of the time. It’s just them. And just as she would rush to Neptune if she found herself in the midst of a losing battle, so too has Neptune proven that she would do the same for Uranus.

Okay, they’re allies. They’re allies, and Neptune has helped her, and nothing else will ever come of it or can ever come of it but Neptune helped her when she was down and she deserves some credit.

A warm flush settles peacefully into Uranus’ chest, and she allows Neptune an extremely rare small smile. “Thank you,” she says, meaning it.

Neptune matches the smile, and brushes Uranus’ bangs back from her damp forehead. Uranus knows that even though she’s on her way to healing, she’s utterly disgusting—covered in sweat and grime and blood and dirt—and even in her state, she still cringes at the thought of Neptune touching her like this. But her touch is surprisingly gentle, and Uranus’ eyes slip closed. “This is three times, now.”

She can hear the smile in Neptune’s voice. “That’s right. You owe me.”

“I do owe you,” Uranus says.

“When the time comes, I know you’ll pay me back. Now, go back to rest,” Neptune says. “I’ll keep guard. If the world begins ending, I’ll be sure to wake you.”

“Funny,” Uranus murmurs, but the overwhelming desire for sleep is already starting to take over again, and she’s slipping back down, down into her dreams.

She dreams again of saltwater.

She dreams again of hands.

* * *

Uranus sits at the balcony of Miranda Castle, turned toward the direction of the wind, eyes closed, allowing her element to sweep over her and cleanse her.

At her station, it’s not unusual for her to go years without any interaction with another human being. In between fights and defenses, Uranus has no shortage of time alone with her thoughts.

And as of late, most of these thoughts have been centering solely on the senshi of the sea.

Neptune is gorgeous. Uranus has eyes, she can’t deny it. And Neptune is powerful. And Neptune has that uncanny ability to save Uranus’ ass. Such, Uranus supposes, is the nature of the game for someone who’s psychic, but it also serves to make Neptune seem even more untouchable. Not that Neptune wasn’t untouchable before—Uranus is an Outer Guardian. Her job is to protect the Silver Millennium. She’d lay down her very life for the sake of the Moon Kingdom and its rulers, and do it gladly. And she was chosen to live indefinitely in isolation at her post, billions of kilometers away from another human being. These facts of her life do not make it very easy for her to have anything in the way of _relationships_. Neptune has the same duties.

But then… _Neptune has the same duties_.

Neptune is literally the only other person in the entire solar system who knows exactly what Uranus’ life is like.

Rationally, Uranus has spent years convincing that nothing can ever come of these types of thoughts. If anything, getting emotionally attached to Neptune is harmful, could be dangerous or even fatal in the line of battle. But Neptune is just…

Uranus senses a sudden sharpness in the breeze and opens her eyes, blinking into the light. It smells like...saltwater.

Saltwater?

Uranus is a desert planet. It makes absolutely no sense to catch the scent of the ocean in the air, and for a split second. Sailor Uranus wonders if maybe the isolation is finally starting to make her go a bit crazy.

Then comes the sharp tugging sensation at her chest, the senshi instinct in her that lets her know something somewhere is wrong, pulling her to battle.

Ready for it—ready at any moment—Uranus is up and off in the blink of an eye.

 

She winds up on Charon. It’s freezing, but none of that matters when she sees Neptune stuck in a circle of squirmy, six-legged masses. “Neptune!” she yells as she charges in.

Even surrounded by invaders and in truly dire straits, Neptune still shoots Uranus a smirk over her shoulder. “Uranus! We really ought to stop meeting like this.”

Uranus unleashes a mighty blast from the Space Sword that takes out a solid chunk of the invaders, consciously choosing to ignore Neptune’s sass. “How else would we”—she ducks a returned blast of dark energy—“meet?”

Neptune springs past the invaders through the hole that Uranus has just created, directing her mirror in the direction of the enemies. “Aim for their chests; that strange symbol on their chests is located over their life source! And as for your question, perhaps you should tell me?”

Uranus rams her sword into the chest of the nearest invader, causing it to crumble into dust. Her eyes light up—this is going to be easy, now. Hell, this is going to be _fun_. And best of all, she’s going to be too busy to overanalyze every little word and gesture Neptune offers. “Neptune”—stab—“how long have you”—duck, slash—“been here?”

“I thought there were only a few, but it turns out they have cloning capabilities.” Neptune unleashes a blast from her mirror. “Submarine Reflection!”

Uranus has no idea what that attack does. She knows the mirror is sort of psychic or something, but how it also shoots targeted energy is one of those Senshi Things, stuff that would otherwise be inexplicable that gets filed away under the mental cabinet in which she stores all of the weird circumstances related to her and her allies’ powers. Regardless of how it works, though, it decimates an entire section of the invaders, and she whistles appreciatively. “Nice shot.”

“Thank you.” Neptune seems pleased. “Do you suppose you could influence the wind enough to force that group over there into something of a line? I think I could shoot straight through a group of them.”

Uranus has been manipulating the air around them from the moment that the request left Neptune’s lips. “Got it,” she says, watching with satisfaction as a mighty breeze sends a massive section of invaders off their feet.

“The sky”--the gust of wind ruffles Neptune’s hair—“and the sea”—Neptune unleashes a blast of water—“are natural companions, wouldn’t you say?”

Uranus jerks her head around. “Eh?” Reflexively, she senses an invader trying to sneak up behind her, and with one quick backward stab she gets it, right in the sweet spot. Unthinking, she shoots a blast of energy behind her, wiping out another cluster.

“The sky meets the sea, and the sea meets the sky, both stretching as far as the eye can see.” With a swipe of her hand, water shoots out in a collection of projectiles. “The sea and the sky. Impossible to really separate.”

Uranus realizes then that there are only a couple invaders left. She steps forward and stabs one through the chest, her sword only trembling a little bit. “Natural companions, you said?”

Neptune finishes the last one off, and faces Uranus. “We do work rather well together, don’t we?” she murmus, soft words loud in the silence.

Uranus forces herself to breathe, forces herself to look Neptune in the eye. Her heart is pounding, but she keeps telling herself that it’s just from the aftermath of the battle. “We do,” she manages. “It’s…it’s fortunate that our power sets are so complementary. When we must fight together, it makes things go much smoother.”

Neptune, with that, turns away. She looks almost disappointed, and it twists Uranus’ heart, and she has no idea what she said but she knows it must have been wrong. “Yes, Uranus,” Neptune sighs, “it’s all about our _power_ , then, isn’t it?”

Uranus exhales slowly, throws out the words as a test. She’s not sure what response she’s going to get but she can’t…she can’t actually say it. “What else would it be about?”

“Nothing.” Neptune doesn’t turn back, doesn’t even look at her. “Until next time.”

 When she’s gone, Uranus whirls and punches the nearest rock formation.

It, of course, crumbles instantly.

Uranus still doesn’t feel any better.

She can get over this. No. She will. She will!

* * *

Uranus leans against the wall of the palace in the dress blues and breeches of her home planet’s military, gazing out at the crowd disinterestedly, looking for something to do.

She’s not bored, exactly--a party at the palace is so preferable to a night at her station that there’s no possible comparison in the human realm—but being away so frequently doesn’t exactly make one a social butterfly, and she’s already completed all of her necessary rounds.

She stopped by to wish the Queen a happy birthday, relishing the warm glow that constantly emanates from the ruler. Uranus couldn’t remember exactly how old the Queen was turning, but she knew it had to be a significant birthday if it meant that even the Outer Soldiers were allowed to come to the celebration.

After that, she had tracked down her Princess, proving herself very efficient in her quest to make young Serenity blush as much as humanly possible. She’d taken pity on the poor girl eventually and then gone off arm wrestling with Sailor Jupiter. She’d left that particular excursion with sore biceps but the thrill of repeated victory, and the solemn vow for a full-body sparring match the next time that they were together in a non-civilized-decorum-expected-party situation.

After _that,_ she’d retreated to her current position at the wall, figuring out her next move.

Then something in the back of Uranus’ mind pulls her attention to the door, and as she glances over, in walks Sailor Neptune.

Uranus tries to ignore the sudden rush that goes through her body at the sight of the other woman. Surprise, she tells herself, it’s just surprise, she hadn’t known if Neptune would come or not. This thought is, all things considered, decidedly silly, and Uranus knows it—as if either of them, with their posts and their lives of duty, would pass up an opportunity to take an evening off on the moon with actual civilization and humanity.

But as her eyes travel over the woman, all of her self-justifications fall away, and she’s just staring. Neptune— _Princess_ Neptune, tonight—is wearing a light blue dress, and Uranus doesn’t know that much about fashion but she knows that the dress is setting off Neptune’s eyes and hair perfectly, and she definitely can tell that it’s distractingly low cut…

With a small cough, Uranus jerks her eyes away. Her senshi instincts make her especially hypertuned to the presence of such immense power and energy nearby, but it’s clear that the room as a whole is noticing the stunning woman in their presence.

It’s finally a soldier from Jupiter, of a high rank, based on his uniform, who approaches, and Uranus watches through a thinly veiled glare as he asks Neptune to dance. Uranus’ expression becomes a full-fledged scowl when Neptune accepts his hand.

He’s handsome enough. Tall, broad shouldered, brown hair, green eyes. His tunic is decorated with a vast number of medals—he may, possibly, even be from the royal family. And Uranus kind of wants to wring his neck.

Not in a _deadly_ way or anything. Just in a way that would get him to take his hands off Neptune. And stop leaning in like that. And—stop looking at her cleavage like that! He’s definitely not even just looking, he’s LEERING. It’s a little shameful, honestly, to be so open about it, and Neptune is _way_ too good for some scumbag who can’t even keep his eyes to himself.

Okay, the song ends, and Uranus lets out a breath she barely even registered she was holding. One song, Jovian, you’ve gotten your one. Now back off.

But the Jovian soldier doesn’t appear to be finished. He’s standing way too close, and it looks like he’s even asking for another dance, and he is SO not looking at Neptune’s eyes, and before Uranus even realizes she’s moving, she’s pushed off the wall and halfway to the pair.

“Excuse me,” Uranus snarls.

Neptune turns a split second before the Jovian soldier, and Uranus doesn’t think she’s mistaking the pleasure she sees in the other woman’s eyes. Looking deeply into Neptune’s eyes gives her a not altogether unpleasant feeling, and for a moment, as she breathes in the familiar saltwater scent, she forgets everything around her.

Then the Jovian’s voice cuts through her reverie. “Yes, can I help you?”

With that—he sounds so bored, like he’s entitled to have this time with Neptune, or something—Uranus recalls exactly what she’s doing, and sets her jaw. “Her next dance is going to be with me.”

The Jovian’s jaw drops. “That’s rather presumptuous of you, isn’t it?” he says once he’s recovered from the blatant breach of etiquette. “Do you know this man?” he asks, turning to Neptune.

But instead of defending the solider, protesting,  or giving Uranus the chastising that by all rights she probably does deserve, Neptune merely quirks an eyebrow at the Jovian. “It appears as though you’ve been displaced, doesn’t it?” she says.  

The Jovian soldier’s mouth falls open and he sputters for a moment, tripping over his words, seemingly starting and stopping a whole combination of different sentences. Then he finally just  sets his jaw and offers a stiff bow. “Good day,” he says, pointedly only to Neptune, before whirling sharply on his heel and stalking off. Uranus watches him with no unbridled glee as he leaves, listening to his impassioned murmuring: “Some guy walks in here like he can just cut in and…”

Uranus turns back to Neptune, grinning. “You are going to dance with me, right?”

Neptune’s eyes are still shining with mirth as she slides one hand in Uranus’ and allows Uranus to slip an arm around her waist. “You did ask nicely, _Princess_ ,” she replies, emphasizing the last word with apparent amusement at the ignorance of the Jovian soldier.

Uranus wills her heart to slow as she takes Neptune in her arms. ‘It was the way he was looking at you,” she says. “I don’t think he saw you at all.”

Neptune gives her a sidelong look. “Are you jealous, Uranus?”

“No!” she snaps. “I just didn’t like the way that idiot soldier was looking at you!”

Neptune laughs softly. “You don’t have to be so harsh—the poor man is just misguided.” She glances at Uranus from beneath her eyelashes and continues, “Besides, I may have worn this dress with someone specific in mind tonight, but it definitely wasn’t _him_.”

Uranus’ mouth goes a bit dry from a combination of warring jealousy and disbelief. “Neptune…” she starts.

“Yes, Uranus?” She responds, lightly placing her hand on Uranus’ shoulder.

The touch is electric and Neptune is so, so, befuddling. Finally, all Uranus can manage to tell her is, “You…can be very difficult.”

Uranus anticipates quite a few possible reactions, but the one she gets isn’t even close to her radar. The look Neptune gives her is almost exasperated, and she shoots right back with, “You can be, too.”

Uranus’ eyebrows fly up. “You’re calling me difficult?”

Neptune nods. “Yes.” She slips a bit closer to Uranus, almost fully pressing their bodies together.

To an outsider, the dance would still appear friendly, even somewhat innocent. To Uranus, the proximity without any release is, quite frankly, driving her insane, and her resistance is weakening with every passing heartbeat.

She can feel Neptune’s warmth, just barely brushing against her; that damn saltwater scent wafts around her, enveloping her senses. She feels almost woozy, and swallows hard to steel herself. “What about me is so difficult?” Her voice comes out with only a hint of roughness.

Neptune draws herself in just a bit further, just far enough for body-on-body contact. Uranus’ breath hitches as Neptune’s body presses against her. Neptune is deceptively strong, but, at the same time, her skin is so soft, and her curves fit with Uranus’ almost perfectly, and that dress seems like it was made to show off Neptune’s chest…

Uranus is, undoubtedly, staring, she realizes suddenly, doing the exact same thing she criticized the Jovian soldier so rudely for doing, and she tears her eyes up only to find Neptune’s own all-too-knowing eyes waiting for her. Neptune laughs softly. “This is exactly why you’re so difficult, Uranus. How much longer are you going to put off doing what you and I have both been wanting to do for _centuries_ now?”

Uranus freezes—absolutely freezes. Nobody has ever accused her of being good with deep emotions, and the small explosion in her chest doesn’t seem likely to change things anytime soon. Impossible, she thinks to herself, utterly impossible… “What are you saying?” she breathes.

Neptune sighs, and this time there’s no mistaking the gentle exasperation. “Uranus,” she says, her voice light and teasing, but her eyes decidedly more anxious. “Let me tell you a couple of secrets. When we took out that fleet on Oberon, I knew you could’ve handled it on your own. And do you remember that monster—the one that got the purple goo all over you? I lied about it being more susceptible to water.” Uranus’ eyes widen, and Neptune quickly presses her finger to Uranus’s lips. “Let me finish. The time when I came to you, with your injured leg and arm, and told you that I sensed complications with the venom in the acid that would’ve impacted your healing? That was also a lie. I completely made it up. And I’m not ashamed at all.”

She lets Uranus speak again, but Uranus has suddenly lost her ability to speak. “But…why…you…” she stammers.

“I’m not ashamed,” Neptune whispers, leaning in close, “because I did it for you. To…get to see you. And I set all of this up, and I’ve been…”

“What about our duty? Uranus croaks. “We...we can’t…it’s our destiny—“

“Uranus.” Neptune cuts her off gently, but forcibly. “I could care less for destiny. Duty is what’s important, and I know that you are as utterly committed as I am. But if you want to talk destiny, we can do that too—do you think it’s an accident that our powers are so well-suited for each other? Or that it’s chance that we work so well together in battle? We were meant to fight alongside each other. I know you feel it, too.”

Every word that Neptune’s saying is making so much sense, and it’s like a thousand tiny lights are finally flickering on inside of Uranus’ head. The pull she feels to Neptune, their strength, their combined powers, all of it, everything, it’s so clear. “Neptune...” she whispers.

”Honestly, Uranus,” Neptune says, “I feel like I’ve been practically throwing myself at you for years. It’s getting to the point where I’m not even sure if I’m right anymore. And anything else…if there’s ever going to be an anything else…it needs to be you. You need to be the one to show me that it’s not all in my head, that I’m not—“

Uranus kisses her.

What else is there to do? Midsentence kisses are never the most elegant, but Neptune, as always, is ALWAYS elegant and recovers quickly, kissing her back. Neptune’s lips are so unbelievably soft, her skin is so smooth, and Uranus tries to be a gentleman and pull back after just a chaste brushing of lips. But then it’s Neptune who wraps her arms around Uranus’ neck and draws her in and _oh_ , this is almost definitely not acceptable according to the royal court decorum, but with Neptune pressed up against her, and nipping at her lower lip, and tangling her hand in Uranus’ hair, well, who the hell _cares_ about decorum?

Finally they pull apart. Breathless, Uranus rests her forehead against Neptune’s, fully aware that she’s grinning like an idiot and not caring in the slightest. “That time on Charon,” she rasps, “when we fought off the horde together. Did you set that up?”

Neptune, Uranus realizes giddily, is matching her grin. “No,” Neptune says, “I was really in trouble for that one. I was very grateful when you showed up.”

“I smelled saltwater,” Uranus tells her, “on my planet, at my castle. Saltwater.”

“I was calling to you,” Neptune says. “You heard me.”

“I think I might be more attuned to you than even I know,” Uranus whispers, reaching up to gently stroke the side of Neptune’s face.

Neptune shivers with pleasure and lets her eyes close. “Very possible. I know that I’m certainly always aware of you.” As she’s saying the words, she draws closer to Uranus, and punctuates the sentence with another tender kiss.

“If you were setting all of those times up,” Uranus says, “then when I was injured that one time, and you said that I owed you…”

Neptune grins, a devilish flash entering her eyes. “I still helped you, didn’t I, Uranus? And besides, there are more ways to pay me back than just in battle.”

It takes Uranus a couple of beats to get it, but when she does… “O-oh,” she says, feeling her face on fire. And then it’s Neptune’s hand soft in hers, gently guiding her out of the ballroom, the scent of saltwater so overwhelming that Uranus isn’t sure if she’s about to laugh or cry.

Neptune cards her fingers through Uranus’ sandy hair, lightly maneuvers her against the wall in a corner, and looks up at her with big blue eyes. “Give me tonight,” she whispers.

And when Uranus responds, she knows she’s saying a thousand things, but she means every last one of them. She takes a deep breath and breathes, “I will.”

 


End file.
